Two-faced
by summerssevenseas
Summary: Matthew Williams, as innocent and adorable as he seems, is a 17 year old boy in a respectful school, with a loving grandmother and an amazing best friend. Through his fake acting career, he escapes school to work to his aptitude throughout his real, endangering job. He's a Canadian Secret Intelligence Service agent, fighting to become the mysterious and most feared hero of all.
1. Prologue

**Hi guys. Okay, I was planning on creating this story for April 23 (My fanfiction anniversary) but whatever. I decided to actually put my serious writing skills into use. Yes, I have serious writing skills. I can actually do action very well, as well as mystery, sci-fi, and adventure. For goddess' sake, I could do all of those genres mixed together. But I'll keep this story to a realistic level, okay? Right. Anyways, this is Two-faced. Enjoy.**

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**Two-faced**

**Prologue**

Matthew was an optimist, with that shy grin always plastered onto his face, always telling himself that someday people will notice him for him and not for his career. He never even considers the fact that maybe no one will, not ever, and he never considers the fact that someone would ever have mental wars with him, or have a grudge against him, maybe silently seethe at the thought of him, or anything of that matter. He rarely got angry, and when he ever did, he would never show it. It's only been once that he's ever been so angry with someone that he told them all the things he didn't like about them, and that was his lookalike, Alfred.

Don't make the mistake of thinking that he hates his perfect image of a stereotype American. He loves him more than any other person—other than his grandmother—, being the one who ever notices him in social life, but as the people in his country say, you love who you hate the most. His country is the only one that would say anything like this, because they were peacekeepers, striving on helping others, polite with even the most crudest, and filled with a quiet and gentle aura. Most of the country, to say the least, were probably the nicest. But there are some parts where they are not very nice, maybe even entirely impertinent, and will spit on others shoes if they mistaken them for being a citizen of their neighboring country.

Matthew, thankfully, didn't hold that trait. And because of his well-known shy, optimistic, and adorable personality—his accent adding to the adorable factor—, no one would've guessed that he was a secret service agent for the Canadian government.

No, Matthew didn't hide behind a mask. He truly was a shy, optimistic, and adorable person. But that was only one of the two bilingual faces he held.

His second face was serious. It was able to pick out bad people from good in a matter of seconds, because it memorized every face that has been put up in the paper as a wanted criminal. This face has seen blood and gore. Limbs torn to shreds, chainsawed organs, shot heads, and pulsing wounds of the half dead bodies that came from heart wrenching explosions. This face was not nice, though it never has uttered any vulgar words before. This face was calm on the most desperate times, and ferocious when in action.

Now, both faces may be different, but it doesn't change the fact that they are the same person. Therefore, Matthew can easily mix both together at any time he wants. But, for the lack of a better statement, he doesn't. He may have a logical reason, for example; He wouldn't want to waste the energy for his strict face for his next mission. Or, maybe he doesn't have any reason. But for sure, whenever any authority ever asked him why, he would always give a simple shake of the head and continue in whatever he was doing previously, leaving the question floating in the air, waiting for its answer.

Despite his different faces—quiet and sweet against quiet and stern—they both had similarities, being in the same body and all. Though his second face never showed its emotion, it very much had many. Every innocent death made its heart welch up in sadness, feeling the pain off all the cracking and shattering ones, and with each cry and gasp of pain from its dear citizens, it would mourn in silence.

Matthew was not an emotionless, hollow-hearted body.

Now to a different subject, Matthew's work. He never took it as a simple game, not like some movie. He took it as a life or death matter, which it most certainly was. He trains every day, somehow always finding a way to train without his grandmother.

Yes, he did live with his gentle, kind grandmother. She was a polite, old, and caring woman who taught him spirit and love. He owed her everything. He was an abandoned child, surviving on the streets with uncomfortable sandals, tattered shorts that were too short and not very helpful in the cold, and a children's sized wife beater. He was just about ready to drop down in the snow and pass out, being too numb and too nauseous to do anything else, but as miracle has it, his Grandma picked him up and gently wrapped him in a blanket and took him home.

It's been 13 years since then, but Matthew still remembers it like the back of his hand. He was a four year old in need of help, and what hero came to rescue him? It was nothing like Spider-man, nor Batman, nor the Teen Titans or Superman. It was an innocent old lady simply walking in the streets, a loud beating and kind heart, wrinkled flesh, and intelligent mind. She held no super powers. She couldn't fly, like Superman, or spin webs, like Spiderman, and she couldn't run at a speed that shouldn't be humanly possible, like Northstar. And this partially inspired him to employ himself in the CSIS.

You must be wondering, _partially?_ What else could have inspired him to become part of such a dangerous job? Well, that goes all the way back to the beginning, where we mentioned Alfred. His lookalike. He and Alfred met as small children, playing in a park. Matthew was home schooled, so he didn't have any friends, and he most certainly didn't play outside much, other than the park. The park was special to him in a way, because it was where his Grandma presented him with his first toy, which he still has today. Kumajirou. But back on track. You see, Matthew was in his long white nightgown, a red bow tied to his collar, and he was holding Kumajirou firmly in his grasp. He was in a serene state, sitting on the swing without so much of a kick of his feet. People passed by and noticed this, and even the children didn't dare come near the swing next to him, too afraid to disturb the peace around him.

That is, most of the children.

A boy almost exactly a year older ran towards him, placing his hands on Matthew's lap. Matthew jumped in surprise and gave the boy a disapproving look for invading his personal space. It took him a few moments to process that the boy who just did that looked nearly exactly like him, with only a few differences. The boy in front of him had blonde hair, just like him, and his facial structure was so identical to his own. The few differences were their eyes, and their skin. Matthew's skin was pale, nearly copying the snow, and his eyes very a toxic mauve. But the boy in front of him had tan, glistening skin, one that a surfer would strut as he or she rode the waves. His eyes were not violet, but a dashing sky blue color, which entranced him. Both boys looked at each other curiously, studying each other their features. It took only a few seconds for the both of them to come up with a conclusion. They didn't need to speak, not even with any simple gestures. Matthew jumped off the swing, and both boys walked together towards the slide.

Matthew still wondered today why they both had such similar minds. It was like their wave links were a perfect fit, and they could easily communicate with just a simple glance from their eyes. Alfred was the boys name, he found out when his mother called him for the picnic he and his family were planning to have. Alfred forced him to join the picnic, and Matthew's grandma just came to keep a close eye. The boy was much more talkative during the lunch, and Matthew just watched the boys face. He was almost entrancing in a way, because Matthew seemed to be looking into a mirror, yet he was not. Because his mirror at the moment was only showing who he wanted to be. And he soon learned that even if he accomplished becoming like Alfred, there will always be another thing that he wants to be. And since Alfred was the mirror he wants, he would be wanting to be a hero later. So why not just skip to being a hero? That's what got him into the CSIS. And he is grateful to Alfred for inspiring him.

By the age of 15, Matthew decided. He would be a spy. He needed to wait two more years, of course, and not only that, but he would need excessive training to work his poor, bony build. He took up the goal of being in as many after school and in school sports programs that would still give him enough time to spend with his lovely grandmother. He became an amazing baseball player, yet he wasn't too fond of it due to being beat up constantly by Alfred. Alfred was much too strong for his age. Well, much too strong to be human, that is. Eventually, Matthew was apt at hockey, and was pretty average at football. Basketball improved his aim, agility, and arm muscles, and he took up soccer to exceed in his running abilities, as well as in school track. Eventually, he became the school's sportaholic. Even Alfred seemed to be impressed by his never ending stamina, and he'd always give him a friendly pat in the back after P.E., a flushed face from all the competing he did with his friends. Well, Matthew assumed he was still competing. He didn't know because he was focusing on training.

And yet, in the two years off all the sports, he never exactly grew a beefy and muscly body, which was quite strange. His punches were hard and could easily knock someone out, and his legs were strong and long, extremely fast and hard to avoid when being targeted with a kick. With his appearance alone, you could easily mistaken him for a very amateur spy, or maybe not even a field spy at all. Probably the one who sits behind a high tech laptop and give commands or directions _to_ a field spy. But, once he proved his abilities to the Canadian Secret Intelligence Service, he was immediately recruited. After taking on flawless rookie missions, he was put into higher and higher ranks, eventually proving his abilities to such an extent that he was able to become the most well known spy for his sniper shots, his agility, and his mental tampering skills, all in just one year. The agency was scared of what would've happened if he didn't decide to join their team, because if he worked for any other team that would be targeting them, they might as well have been screwed over in the blink of an eye.

And now, he simply gets a shallow ring of a phone in his pocket and he's already trudging through the long building with a dominating vibe, his eyes piercing into every soul around him, his quiet feet vibrating tense sounds even in the bustling structure, and his chin held high enough that it was basically tattooing the words "high authority" across his forehead, just without the humor that would cause. And when he gets his files, he opens it, skims through it, give the files back, then exit the building and begin his job.

The only reason he's ever been excused from school was because of the fake job description his higher authority had given to him, being a man who works with a movie director. Due to this, he has actually been shot in a movie or two, which weren't very popular, but it was enough proof to get him off the hook with his principle. Alfred constantly asks him things about his job, how it's like to be a star and such. Matthew would always give him a short and sweet answer, not really being able to muster any courage to tell him more. Besides, he abhors the thought of attention being thrown at him because of something like a job. Both of his faces do, and therefore, he keeps quiet on his jobs and daily life, mostly asking others about their day. Well, Alfred mostly, considering he has a limited abundance of friends.

Eventually, he successfully had everyone return to their daily routine, without any of them questioning about his movie career, all knowing how much of a discomfort it was to the boy, and all knowing how much it displeased him when others brought up the subject. Alfred was the only one who was brave enough to ask, but the way he asked it wasn't one of those excited "I just met a celebrity" types of questions. It was more of a way of asking how Matthew was doing in his life, and he appreciated how Alfred respected his space when he did not want to answer, and how he never squeals like a fangirl when he says that he has a new drama he is working on. Alfred understood him more than anyone, and Matthew understood Alfred in the same way. They were complete opposites, but it didn't change their friendship.

And Matthews life now is probably perfect for any secret agent of the CSIS, with a loving grandmother, an amazing best friends, and a respectful school. All that, and his most prime and dominant skill, his job in the making, his agenting.


	2. Chapter 1

**Allo, mon ami! Mi amigos! Mien freundes! Lol, hi! Anyways, sorry this took a little bit long. I can't believe I did this to myself. I have a research project on Russia. I chose Russia though, because the place is freaking awesome. DRANIKI! Lol, become one with Mother Russia, da? **

**Friend: Nyet. Become one with Mother Belarus.**

**NYET! Anyways, here's chapter one. It is a relatively calm and subtle chapter, but in the end, you get a hint of something. Anyways, don't forget to R & R! And remember to imagine what I describe in my stories, or else you wont ever be able to get a good picture of what's going on! Like Victor Hugo, you gotta imagine to fully understand the story. Keep those brains thinking! We don't want another Dark Ages! Lol, just joshing ya. Imma shut up now...**

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**Two-faced**

**Chapter One**

Matthew sighed in content, sniffing at the wet air around him, mixed with the smell of steaming coffee, glazed donut holes, and milk. It was the smell of winter vacation, and Matthew was happy with the though of no school. He did love school, since it was a place where he had access to nearly thousands of books, with its grand library and scattered miniature ones. Even the classes had books, mostly stacked in the Literature/History room, where Matthew was scheduled to go for both History and Literature every day.

Alfred was sitting across of him, earmuffs on with at least three jackets and a sweater overlapping on his chest, making him look much more fatter than he actually was. Alfred could never stand the cold, being a boy who solely had a heart for the Californian beaches, riding waves and playing volleyball, and the great deserts in Texas, perfect for watching the bright and enchanting stars.

"Dude, how are you even, oh, I dunno, _WARM_ in just a freaking jacket! And you're wearing jeans! JEANS! You don't have a scarf, no earmuffs, and your gloves are made of skintight leather! Who or what are you!?"

Matthew just chuckled, not at all offended by the words his best friend threw at him and shrugged. "I am not sure, really. I guess I am just a deformed alien that was sent here for being different." He said in his hushed voice, which the American friend had no problem with. Matthew always spoke softly, so he was used to straining his ears and listening around him. Guess who's the reason Alfred supposedly has the best ears in the entirety of the school?

"No way, bro." Alfred started, a chuckle given out loud and clear. "You're no alien. Tony is, but you ain't."

"You are not." Matthew corrected, a giggle bubbling in his throat at the expression his friend gave. It was always a treat to be with Alfred, because he always had some way of making Matthew laugh. When Matthew was amused, he'd usually just smile, but Alfred knew just how to make the Canadian laugh. And the American knew it, because when he first found out, he did it as frequently as he could whenever he was around the adorable boy. Alfred enjoyed making people laugh, especially Matthew, since they were so close.

The two finished eating their donuts in silence, which was preferred by both. Alfred wasn't usually quiet. In fact, he could be heard across the other side of the school once you get him going, but whenever he is with Matthew, he has this sudden urge to just stay silent and play this small game they used to do a kids. When they ate together in silence, they always stared at each other, studying each others features. Alfred's parents thought it was strange, considering he had ADHD and that he was focused on something so intently, and Matthew's Grandmother just smiled. Matthew was a little weird as well, he had a certain disorder in his senses, which slightly obscured his sight, but it was worth it. He was able to taste what he hears, as he explained it, and usually when he told people this, they'd give him funny looks. Alfred thought it was pretty cool though, and when Matthew told him this, he started making a variety of different noises to get Matthew to tell him what he tastes.

Ah, the games they did as children. They still did it now, but it was as intent, other than the staring and studying of each other.

Matthew sighed in content once more, slightly sad that he finished his donut already, and licked his fingers. Alfred watched his fingers, because they somehow amazed him. Matthew played the harp, viola, cello, piano, trumpet, and guitar, and yet his hands were perfectly smooth and light. Most people with only knowing how to play one of the string instruments Matthew knew would have calloused fingers by now, but Matthew didn't and he was perfectly oblivious about the sole word. Alfred never mentioned this, and he didn't seem to care. He actually liked Matthew's hands, because they were innocent, compared to his.

Alfred hasn't told Matthew his secret yet, has he? Oh well, maybe later. He just wanted to continue this game a little longer.

"Alfred..." He blinked, coming into reality as he realized that he was off in his thoughts as he stared at his friend. Matthew looked a little worried, and was leaning across the table with his hand on Alfred's forehead. "Alfred, you need to take one of those coats off. You are burning." His tone was soft, yet firm, and Alfred obeyed immediately. Matthew didn't need to use a firm tone in the first place, Alfred would always listen to Matthew if he was concerned for his health. Alfred liked that about Matthew, that he was caring and sweet. He was definitely from the quiet and friendly side of Canada. Or maybe it was just the influence of his Grandmother. Alfred didn't really know, but he loved it nonetheless.

Alfred loved his stereotypical Canadian, a lot. Like his own brother. But what intrigued him was the air Matthew produced. It was an air of mystery and adventure, and at times, when the Canadian came back after a long bathroom break or errand, he smelled something metallic on the pale boy's skin. He'd often ask if he was alright, but Matthew shook it off with a polite wave of the hand. Alfred was a little scared of this, because he was worried if his best friend was hiding something from him. What if he was? What if the American was being played like a chess piece throughout his life?

No, the American never actually thought of that seriously. Usually, it was just a joke he made with himself when he went to bed, having small dreams of the smiling face that held so much mystery an life, like there was something else other than that innocent, fragile boy. He remembers watching one of the movies Matthew was in, him being one of the main characters. His acting was superb, and he really was the one that made the movie a success. The other actors were amateur, not having any experience like Matthew had, since he took theatre. Or, at least, Alfred though that was the reason Matthew was so good at playing the spy. He looked so calm and serious driving the specially made car, the CSIS crest was held with such an air of professionalism as Matthew showed it off to the policemen at the crime scene. Alfred had his eyes glued onto Matthew, utter shock taken over him as he watched his shy, frail friend strut his acting skills to a limit that shouldn't even be achieved at such an age.

Alfred looked up from his coffee, seeing the Canadian taking a long sip of his milk with a bliss smile graced onto his features. Alfred's lips tugged up, amused with Matthew's face. He loved milk a little too much, but whenever Alfred says that, the Canadian comes back with a "Well, then I'm just like you and your milkshakes." Then Alfred would come back with a "What about you and pancakes?" but, as usual, Matthew would giggle and say "Like you and Hamburgers!"

Alfred found it amusing to no end how the Canadian almost always had a comeback up his sleeve. If he had a little more confidence and was somewhat louder, like he is in his movies, Matthew would be able to make a certain bully at school pee his pants with embarrassment. Alfred actually imagined that once, and he just randomly started laughing in the middle of the street with the Canuck. But Matthew just chuckled along with him, not at all bothered with the strange act.

There was a lot of reasons why Matthew and him get along. Matthew doesn't question Alfred about his strange actions, and Alfred never pushed Matthew to the limit with his teasing. Ever. He did that once and the Canuck because a freaking hockey player with a potty mouth for three hours straight, then started apologizing by the end of his speech. He didn't stop apologizing for a month, and it took some time to get the Canadian to even _look_ at Alfred again.

Now that Alfred thought about it, there was only three things that irritated Matthew, huh? Questions on his job, being teased about having a stuffed animal, and touching Matthew's glasses or curl. He heard rumors around the school that you'd get a rather interesting reaction if you pulled Matthew's curl. Alfred didn't know what it was, but he somehow had himself staring at the jiggling strand from time to time, a glint in his eyes that proved his curiosity. Matthew never saw it.

And then there was the glasses. Alfred didn't know why, but Matthew never took them off. Ever. Not even when he's eating soup, when the steam would fog up his glasses, or in the pool, as he dived underwater. Alfred wondered if he actually slept in them. It wouldn't be surprising, but if he did, Alfred would want some answers as to why. Alfred was intrigued by Matthew, the boy whom he has known for most of his life. It still baffled him that he had so much to learn about the Canuck, even throughout these years of knowing him. It actually kinda scared him.

"Are you done Alfred?" The Canadian asked, a little anxious on what they were going to do next. Alfred blinked, but smiled immediately and nodded. "Yup. Let me throw away my cup." Matthew waited patiently, like usual, for Alfred to throw away his cup of coffee. Alfred also wondered about the boy's patience. He remembered vaguely of a time where he came across the boy sitting on a park bench, kicking his feet. The sun was long since set, and Alfred asked to take him home, but Matthew politely refused. He said that an old man asked him to save his seat on the bench for him, and Alfred asked how long Matthew had been waiting. It turned out that Matthew had been waiting for six hours. He found a way to force the Canuck off the bench and towards his house, thankfully.

Alfred slipped on the coat he took off from before, exiting the quiet donut shop and walking down the streets with his friend. He couldn't help but continue his wondering, and, curse him for his ADHD, he began to think about coffee. He was an 18 year old boy who has been drinking coffee for a long time, and it was a good thing too, considering that he had a high risk of diabetes. He doesn't have it though, because his drinking of coffee saved the day! He tried encouraging Matthew into drinking coffee, but that only resulted to a flat out no.

Alfred wondered some more. Why is it that everything he thought about lead to Matthew? He turned to look at said person, taking in their delicate features, a deep breath drawn and held for some unknown reason. His cheeks felt numb for a reason he had no clue of, and suddenly, the extra coat felt a little too uncomfortable.

Everything stopped, though, as his phone rang in his pocket. Alfred frowned, taking out the phone and checking the ID.

_Work... Going back to the USA a little early, hm?_

Alfred sighed and gave an apologetic look at the Canadian, who just chuckled and shook his head, gesturing to him that it was okay. Alfred smiled at his friend's understanding and answered, walking into an alley for privacy.

Matthew just waited, curiously watching a toy store as little kids entered and exited, giant smiled plastered onto their faces. It made him smile in a little joy, and some pride for his country for having such happy and optimistic people. Alfred came back shortly after, his face a tad bit sad, giving Matthew an apologetic look once again.

"Sorry Mattie. I need to go back to the USA now."

That made Matthew frown. Alfred knew all too well how much the Canadian hated being alone, with no one who would notice him other than his Grandma.

"But don't worry! I'll call you as much as I can and send you sunflowers and tulips! I know how much you love those!"

Immediately, Matthew giggled, giving his friend a hug. "I'll miss you. Keep yourself out of trouble, okay?"

_I wonder if I should tell him that secret now... No. That'll ruin the mood._


End file.
